Word's Hurt
by HuffynDK
Summary: REPOSTED with changes. Cruz and Jones argue about an internet article but it's really about two different things to two different people. The effects of bullying and emotional abuse on Jones and Neal
1. Chapter 1

Authors Note: This is dedicated to the survivors of bullying and abuse or prejudice. I am a teacher who still feels guilty for turning a blind eye and not being forceful enough confronting bullying in my school and classroom. I was also the victim of bullying in school and emotional abuse at home. Teachers is used here to represent those put in authority to supervise others. It was just inspired also by internet responses to the cases of children who kill themselves because of continued bullyings and abuse. Words hurt, sometimes more then fists ever could. Emotional abuse is a very powerful thing and it is as real and damaging as physical abuse. If you know of someone being bullied or emotionally abused, don't wait. Step up and do something, you might be the only one who does.

Jones angerly pounded his fist onto his desk. "Neal, did you catch the latest about those kids who hung themselves? Now the school people are all falling over themselves to protect each other, hiding behind the principal and the unions. The school board is protecting themselves saying the principal never came to them and never told them."

Neal sneered derisively from his desk. "Let me guess, it all boils down to the classic 'nobody saw anything' defense. Yeah right."

Lauren popped her head up. She normally tuned out any conversation that didn't have anything to do with work. "It might be that they are telling the truth. It might be that they really didn't see anything."

"Lauren, wake up! The information of what to look for in a bullied or abused child is all around. People don't see because frankly they don't want to see it." Neal could feel the old anger stoking. "It's the same psychology as pulling a con. People only see what they feel will do one of the following: gain them a leg up somewhere – either psychologically, socially, or financially, doesn't cause them to exert any additional effort on their part, or it doesn't cause them to leave their ivory towers and see the world as it really is. When something bad happens, they defend their inactivity by blaming anyone else they can think of but themselves. It's the most" Neal took a deep breath. He could feel himself shaking, "disgusting when it's a child. A child trusts and looks to the adults in his life to help and protect them. When they see the adult in charge of their life see but not see, it sends a real powerful message. It says you are viewed as a fundamentally worthless person whose fate is to be the whupping boy of the fucking damn world so toughen up and deal with it, Irish bastard." The memories came on too strong so he got up and fled.

"He's certainly being touchy. You'd think as a grown man he'd get a tough skin and deal with it. He's probably waiting for someone to run after him and coddle him." Lauren dismissed, returning to her file.

"Cruz, you are a damn BITCH! It must be nice to sit in your morally superior tower looking down on the rest of us huddling masses. Tell me Lauren, who decided men need no coddling? Huh? Who put you in the position of being able to determine the wants and needs of a man? You scream bloody murder as a woman if a man were to try to tell you what you need. Yet, you have no problem expressing an opinion on what a man needs or how a grown man should or shouldn't act when you've never been through the life experience of being a male. You have no way of knowing how we feel other then what you observe. If a man dares show tears or sadness or fear, well suddenly we are immature, or fags, or less then men. It's ironic, you buy these books about "Women are from Venus, Men are from Mars" and others. You tell us how we need to be open. We need to talk about and express emotions. We do that and you jump all over us.

What in the hell gives you the right to decide that only half of the population is worthy of emotional expression? What secret do you magically posess that makes you worthy of being held and cuddled when you feel insecure? Why am I insensitive then when I don't hold you because you have PMS, or you think your butt is too big, or you think someone at work doesn't like you?"

"Because, it's the way society is, Jones. It's the way its always been and it's the way it always should be. Besides, like it or lump it, I have a right to express my opinion."

"Sure, through sniping comments and generalizations. You don't even have the guts to say it to someone's face. You gossip. You get on IM and tell nasty comments about other people. You start up 'social networking' websites and snipe. You go on the internet, make up imaginery names, and hide with anonymity to make nasty to your hearts content. You express your opinions like they are some sort of damn 'universal truth' that everyone should just know. If you believe it, then it must certainly be so and the only way that anyone else could ever think. Anyone who doesn't is not as talented, not as creative, not as smart, not as withit as you are."

"This was talking about a bullying incident. It wasn't meant to come down to a battle of the sexes."

"Cruz, you ever had a teacher, look at you and call you 'lazy'? You ever had a coach in PE make fun of you because you weren't as athletically gifted as he felt you should be given your ethnicity or your height? Have you ever had a school psychologist tell you that maybe you wouldn't be bullied if you didn't cry or you weren't disabled or you weren't black or you weren't already outside the status quo? Have you ever been punished with detention for swinging back at a bully while the bully goes scot-free? You ever been told with that sanctimonious teacher voice that 'they can't punish what they can't see' even though the incident just took place while they were in the room? You ever been profiled by a cop and hasseled because you were the wrong race in the wrong place at the wrong time? You ever been hauled out of bed or the basement, to sit and be an audience to your parents fighting? You ever spend so much time crying yourself to sleep that eventually you just quit making any noise because no one is ever going to come anyway? If you haven't, then shut the hell up with your opinons. You haven't lived my life, you haven't had my experience, and until you have, you don't have the right to judge anything about me."

"Jones, this is America. It's a free country. Under the first amendment, I have freedom of speech. This means I have the right to say what I think any time I want to." Cruz defended.

"Yeah, the bigots of the earth always hide behind the first amendment. They say it's only words. I never hit anyone with my fists." Jones groused. The two glared and each other.

Peter shook his head. "Mind if I get a word in here? This is an FBI White Collar office. As interesting as it is to discuss psychology and politics, we really are only paid to analyze and solve White Collar crimes. Unfortunately, we can't solve or fix all of the problems, real or perceived, in society. The only thing we are able to do is help the victim get their problems redressed. We have less then 48 hours until the statute of limitations expires on the DeSoto Insurance fraud case. I need your reports by noon, hopefully with enough information to get us before a grand jury or at least a continuance. Now, I'm going to go and check on my friend. Yes, Cruz, I might 'coddle' him. I'm trying to teach him he's a good person, worthy of having people care about his thoughts and feelings, and hopefully then he won't be convinced by a sweet talker to con again. I'm trying to teach him that just because others screw up, it doesn't mean its all your fault, and its never to late to show him someone hears and someone cares. If I go overboard sometimes and it doesn't fit your version of masculinity, that's tough. I don't do everything for strictly your benefit. I do it for someone who I care about who is hurting and needs it."


	2. Chapter 2

Peter first checked the usual places. He checked the men's room. He didn't find Neal, even opening up stalls to make sure his friend wasn't in there with his feet up on the toilet seat. Neal had done that in Phoenix. Peter made it a point to never be burned the same way twice. He went and checked out the locker room. He did check the lockers, more as a force of habit and the showers. He debated next whether to go to the parking garage or the roof. He decided to try the roof first. Neal tended to like to go to roofs when he needed to think. He tapped the key to the elevator.

He still couldn't get over the volatility in the bull pen. He did know why Clinton had had such an uncharacteristic reaction. He knew from interviewing him, one of his first calls on the force was to a school shooting. A kid had reached the end of his rope with bullies and took out two fellow students and a teacher before blowing his own brains out. Clinton had been the one to find the gunman, a boy from his church and neighborhood. The topic of bullying or school shootings provoked a lot of emotions in the sensitive man. Peter usually made a habit to avoid the topic in the bullpen. Cruz hadn't been out of line, she was expressing a common viewpoint but there was already too much fuel on the fire to keep it from blowing into an inferno. He also left to permit the two to resolve this rock in their partnership themselves. He trusted both their maturity and their professionalism.

He had been surprised at Neal's reaction. Neal normally exposed his emotions very carefully. He tended to do so only in a situation he controlled and only under his own rules. The outburst did seem to indicate that he was beginning to build some tenuous layer of trust with Cruz and Jones. Neal had a lot of trouble trusting others, including himself. Peter knew he meant it when he told Peter that Peter was the one person he trusted. Neal had repeated it a couple of times unmedicated. The trust was returned, though Peter did keep things from Neal to protect him. He saw better then others that Neal was intensely vulnerable and if Peter's suspicions panned out, Kate's betrayals would potentially crumble him. He wanted to be able to piece the reveals out and decide exactly how much Neal was going to need to know and when. Yes, he wanted to get his years out of Neal, his friend was too great an asset to the FBI not to. However, this went deeper then the FBI asset. Neal had wormed his way into Peter's life and heart and become the little brother Peter had never had. He would do whatever it took to protect him, even if one day it meant sacrificing a career that was feeling less and less noble with every passing day. He felt that if he had to choose loyalty to the FBI or loyalty to Neal, Neal won.

Neal leaned on the generator and caught his breath. He was kicking himself. He had dropped his masks too far and came too close to exposing himself. He had broken the first rule of survival, always cover your weaknesses. He hit a fist onto the top of the machine, instantly realizing his fist took more damage. He hated the fact that underneath the smooth, unruffled, ultra-cool persona of Neal Caffery, the geeky, nerdy outsider of Nicholas Caffery lived. He was sitting in the dirt, his clothes a size or two too small, stained and raggedly patched. He was holding his glasses, already held together with too much scotch tape, until the next charity drive or Papa remembered to take him in for his well-child checkup. Neal still gave a sad snicker that he would always be waiting for that. He'd never seen a doctor or a dentist until prison. He screwed his eyes shut, wanting to turn off the taunts he could hear playing back in his head, a never ending, never breaking recording. "Irish bastard cur." Neal spat out at himself. Deep down, there were many times he believed that. He felt most mistakes he made were do to the fact that he was somehow inherently deficient in some area.

"Wow. Now, that is a rather harsh assessment of someone." Peter had blinked at the venom behind the words.

"No, it's just an honest assessment of myself – who I am deep down when I stop being a con man." Neal wished the tar would melt and suck him down. He was too tired to pretend and it felt good to have a person he didn't lie to.

"Let me think about that. You could be Irish, that could be a fact. I don't know the status of your parent's marital relations, however that is not the kindest way to phrase it. Cur would mean you were a very close blood relative to Satchmo. No, you only qualify on one of the three, two at most." Peter winced as he looked at the hand. "I think, Ironhands, I am going to have to give that round to the generator."

"It's just a little sore." Neal didn't want to encourage more conversation. He knew Peter would want to know more about the scene downstairs. If he tried to be blithe about it, perhaps he could distract him.

"Yes, and Abraham Lincoln only suffered a mild headache. If that swells up, I am hauling you in. You are going to have to type up the report."

"It's not broken." Neal knew he sounded sullen.

"Ok." Peter turned and studied Neal. He knew he was getting the brush off. They both knew he wasn't going to opt to take the hint. "It's not every day I see you get this upset, running out on me and attacking defenseless machinery. What gives?"

"Nothing, Peter, I'm totally fine. It's all over and done with." Neal tried to move to the exit door and was stopped by a firm hand on his arm.

"Not so fast. As your friend, I want to know what's going on. You can tell me in that capacity, or I can pull rank and order you to as your handler and supervisor." Peter firmed up his voice at the end to show there was no escape clause.

"What about my right to privacy?" Neal knew he was pretty much doomed but his personality wouldn't allow him to give up without a fight.

"Sorry, the right to privacy isn't in the Bill of Rights or the Geneva Convention. You sign up to work for the FBI, even as a consultant, it ceases to exist. Besides, to quote my favorite comic character, privacy isn't a right."

"Your favorite comic book character is also paranoid, anal, and seems to have a weird thing for teen boys with black hair and blue eyes." Neal hid a smile behind his lapel, focusing intently on his tie.

"Nice diversionary attempt, it might have worked but it was the same one you used a month ago. You really need to get some new material. I would almost say you're slipping."

"Slipping? SLIPPING? You accuse ME of slipping? I will have you know I am DEFINITELY in no danger of that!" Neal legitimately felt offended. He didn't care what others thought of his work, they were often uninformed masses. Peter was different, his mental equal and for him to make that assessment was insulting.

"Down boy, heel! I said 'almost' and it was to check how close to the edge you are. By the way you went off without an attempt at banter proves to me whatever happened downstairs is still eating at you."

"That was unfair." Neal smoothed his ruffled feathers. He would give in to Peter's demand, but he had to make it appear it was all on his terms. "I still am a little." He took a deep breath. "Its an old old story from long long ago. Nobody heard back then and I'm not sure what difference anyone hearing now is really going to make." Neal kicked a stone across the roof, clicking and clattering across the roof.

"I can't change what happened before I came in to the story." Peter placed an arm on Neal's shoulder. "But I can listen and maybe change how you feel about it. I can also change the present, but I can't help what I don't know about."

"It's a long story. It's not a happy story and I don't know if you have the time." Neal appreciated the effort, he really did. He just didn't want to burden Peter so he wanted to provide Peter with an out. Peter was a good friend, but he'd never told his story to anyone, including Mozzie, and he couldn't believe anyone else would be interested or care. He'd spent most of his life trying to run from it.

"It just so happens being a supervisor, I have all the time we need." Peter plopped down on the roof and took Neal down with him. "There. If your precious suit gets dirty, I'll pop for the dry cleaning. I wanted your butt down next to me so that I can grab it quicker if you try to run."

"Last chance for an out, you said yourself your not good with tears and mushy stuff."

"That only applies to El's friends and bad chick flicks. When it comes to you, I can make an exception. I can leave my best bud hangin'"

"What?" Neal burst out laughing for a moment. "You sound like your contemplating a career change into being a white rapper."

"Hey, maybe that's one of my undercover aliases. I say, I can be, I can be a cop, a cop with rhy"

"Peter, I mean this with all sincerity, don't quit your day job. I think the rap world will just have to survive without us."

"Us?"

"I can't let my best friend hang alone. Peter, are you sure you want to hear all this stuff?"

"Yes. You need to tell someone or one day you are going to explode."

Neal sighed in defeat. He knew he had no escape clause anymore. "Once upon a time, long, long, ago in a land not far enough away…"

TBC


End file.
